


Seven’s the lucky number: Seven instances of “This is not happening.”

by glassskins



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassskins/pseuds/glassskins
Summary: These will take place in a modern AU. Law lost his family to a case of arson. He barely survives with serious burns. Corazon is the lead detective in charge of the case. Some time later, Corazon takes Law in and cares for him as a guardian. The short drabbles are a peek into the misadventures these two have together... up until it happens.





	1. Chapter 1

“Do you believe in luck? They say bad things happen in threes and seven’s a lucky number. Lucky number seven. Guess luck’s never favored us from the very beginning. Listen, if something’s too good to be true, it usually isn’t. Nothing lasts forever, you’d do best to remember that. Always… always cherish the moments of the present. Don’t make the same mistakes I did… the same regrets. And when it happens… when it happens, when everything around you comes crashing down in tumultuous waves and darkness engulfs all hope and you’re drowning all alone, remember… him. Remember his painted smiles, remember his kindness, his love and care. Never forget what he’s done. Maybe it’ll help you to get through the excruciating loneliness and hurt he leaves behind. Be stronger than I was. Be stronger than I am. I…”

A few droplets fall onto the paper. They mix with the ink and it runs. Splotches form over the letter that’s addressed to no one in particular. The writer stands abruptly and dabs shakily at his eyes. He pushes back the chair and leaves the room in a hurry. The door slams for the last time. He’ll never return. There’s nothing to return to. Where he’s going… he has no idea. In life and in death, we’re all just lost, wandering souls.


	2. 1. “This is not happening.” – The public pool, one fine Saturday afternoon.

“This is not happening.” Law crossed his scrawny arms over his puny, bony chest, sticking it out as far as he can without snapping his back. He was trying to stand his ground there, trying to be firm, unwavering and adamant about the request.

It was unfair. Why should he do it, just because everyone else was doing it? He shifted on his bare feet, unconsciously stepping away from the edge of the pool. He tried to appear dangerous and serious, but unfortunately for pre-teen Law, dressed in a pair of bear-print trunks, and only that, with the exception of his sullen pout, he was just a little-bitty brat.

“’Course it is! We’ve been standing here for close to half an hour. My feet are pruney and I bet the lifeguard is chuckling to himself about what a coward you’re being.” Rosinante, too, crossed his lean arms over his broader chest. _This kid is the most stubborn little shit I have ever, ever, ever, had the misfortune of meeting_ , he thought with a twitching of his brow.

Rosinante had tried everything, from bribing Law with ice cream, to a giant, life-sized bear plushie, to basically doing whatever he wanted, but Law absolutely refused to enter the water. Sure, Rosinante could abandon his attempt – no big deal, right? If Law hated swimming, so be it. Why go through all the trouble of forcing him into the pool? But it was more complicated than that. It was about being a… responsible guardian, about helping the kid overcome his fears.

“You are jumping or I am leaving you behind,” Rosinante said sternly, articulating each and every syllable with a low voice.

“Fine. Anywhere’s better than that stinking apartment of yours that never gets cleaned.”

That earned Law a splash of water from Rosinante. Law gave a small, surprised yelp and glared back as if he had been bitten by a hellhound.

“C’mon. Try it, scaredy cat. Aren’t you already thirteen?”

“Shut up! I hate the water, that’s all!” Law widened his eyes and immediately averted his gaze. His fear of the water sounded so senseless and absurd when vocalised.

“...It’s very shallow. Look, up to my knees.” Rosinante moved his legs on the spot and pointed to the water level, as if Law hadn’t been staring at it for thirty minutes from the outside of the pool.

“I’m not getting in!”

Rosinante sighed. The kid was being extremely difficult, and he couldn’t tell if Law was doing it on purpose to spite him for being so busy with work as of late. Nevertheless, Rosinante extended his arms, deciding he would try one last time. “I’ll catch you, now jump!”

“I AM NOT FIVE.” Law’s cheeks burned with a rosy blush. He scrunched up his face, insulted that Rosinante would go to such lengths in PUBLIC. What if there was someone that Law recognised? A schoolmate? He didn’t mind being picked up like baby Simba from Lion King if they were AT HOME. But with so many watchful pairs of eyes around, the humiliation would shame him for life.

“Sure. You’re acting just like one,” Rosinante said, deadpan.

To their side, a little kid who couldn’t have been older than five toddled towards the pool and hopped into the water without hesitation. She wasn’t wearing a safety float; she wasn’t crying for her mother.

“See? Even the baby can do—”

Before Rosinante could finish his remark, Law leapt into the pool without warning, his foot unintentionally hitting Rosinante in the face. They both fell into the water with a loud splash and a string of short, panicked cries – that mostly originated from Law, who clung to Rosinante like a leech, refusing to let go. To make things worse, Law’s bear-print trunks had fallen out and floated away.

Minutes later, fished out by the lifeguard, neither of them wanted to speak any more of the matter. However, unfortunately, they couldn’t bury their embarrassment just yet. Law’s kick to Rosinante’s face had evidently broken his nose, and thus, a hospital visit was inevitable.

“…You shouldn’t have made me do it,” Law grumbled later that night, when he was tucked into bed. “…Does it hurt?”

“Please, with those skinny limbs of yours? Barely felt it. Although, I do remember your arms constricting my chest like an anacon—” A pillow hit Rosinante in his face.

“...Wait. Stay...” came a murmur from the bed. “...Please.”

“Fine, but only for a minute.”

Rosinante stayed throughout the night.


End file.
